Zhang Xiang looked across the way, clearly still shaken.
"They split into two groups. The first group attacked from the front, but the real killing firepoint was across the street…"
Liu Daqing followed the direction of his finger and finally saw the high-rise on the side. On the eighth floor there happened to be a rooftop. On the rooftop stood a flower trellis; even in winter it was dense with branches and leaves, covered in pale yellow little blossoms.
She didn't know what plant it was, but this spot could absolutely conceal a well-trained sniper.
She walked over and looked at the still-open window.
It was a vent window, usually kept shut, and made of bulletproof glass. But that day, for some reason, this window had been opened.
Liu Daqing casually brushed the dust spattered on the windowsill; clearly it was left by the sparks of bullets, still carrying that vague smell of powder and smoke.
"Who opened it?"
